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_ Avrza a refreshment, which was called the morning meal and to
which the two friends sat down at an hour when common mortals
were abeady long past their midday prandium, Petronius proposed
a light doze. According to him, it was too early for visits yet.
"There are, it is true," said he, "people who begin to visit their
acquaintances about sunrise, thinking that custom an old Roman
one, but I look on this as barbarous. The afternoon hours are most
proper, -- not earlier, however, than that one when the sun passes
to the side of Jove's temple on the Capitol and begins to look
slantwise on the Forum. In autumn it is still hot, and people arc
glad to sleep after eating. At the same time it is pleasant to hear
the noise of the fountain in the atrium, and, after the obligatory
thousand steps, to doze in the red light which filters in through the
purple half-drawn velarium."
Vinicius recognized the justice of these words; and the two men
began to walk, speaking in a careless manner of what was to be
heard on the Palatine and in the city, and philosophizing a little
upon life. Petronius withdrew then to the cubiculum, but did not
sleep long. In half an hour he came out, and, having given
command to bring verbena, he inhaled the perfume and rubbed his
hands and temples with it.
"Thou wilt not believe," said he, "how it enlivens and freshens one.
Now I am ready."
The litter was waiting long since; hence they took their places, and
Petronius gave command to bear them to the Vicus Patricius, to
the house of Aulus. Petronius's "insula" lay on the southern slope
of the Palatine, near the so-called Carinse; their nearest way,
therefore, was below the Forum; but since Petronius wished to step
in on the way to see the jeweller Idomeneus, he gave the direction
to carry them along the Vicus Apollinis and the Forum in the
direction of the Vicus Sceleratus, on the corner of which were
many tabernae of every kind.
Gigantic Africans bore the litter and moved on, preceded by slaves
called pedisequii. Petronius, after some time, raised to his nostrils
in silence his palm odorous with verbena, and seemed to be
meditating on something.
"It occurs to me," said he after a while, "that if thy forest goddess
is not a slave she might leave the house of Plautius, and transfer
herself to thine. Thou wouldst surround her with love and cover
her with wealth, as I do my adored Chrysothemis, of whom,
speaking between us, I have quite as nearly enough as she has of
me."
Marcus shook his head.
"No?" inquired Petronius. "In the worst event, the case would be
left with Caesar, and thou mayst be certain that, thanks even to my
influence, our Bronzebeard would be on thy side."
"Thou knowest not Lygia," replied Vinicius.
"Then permit me to ask if thou know her otherwise than by sight?
Mast spoken with her? hast confessed thy love to her?"
"I saw her first at the fountain; since then I have met her twice.
Remember that during my stay in the house of Aulus, I dwelt in a
separate villa, intended for guests, and, having a disjointed arm, I
could not sit at the common table. Only on the eve of the day for
which I announced my departure did I meet Lygia at supper, but I
could not say a word to her. I had to listen to Aulus and his
account of victories gained by him in Britain, and then of the fall
of small states in Italy, which Licinius Stolo strove to prevent. In
general I do not know whether Aulus will be able to speak of aught
else, and do not think that we shall escape this history unless it be
thy wish to hear about the effeminacy of these days. They have
pheasants in their preserves, but they do not eat them, setting out
from the principle that every pheasant eaten brings nearer the end
of Roman power. I met her a second time at the garden cistern,
with a freshly plucked reed in her hand, the top of which she
dipped in the water and sprinkled the irises growing around. Look
at my knees. By the shield of Hercules, I tell thee that they did not
tremble when clouds of Parthians advanced on our maniples with
howls, but they trembled before the cistern. And, confused as a
youth who still wears a bulla on his neck, I merely begged pity
with my eyes, not being able to utter a word for a long time."
Petronius looked at him, as if with a certain envy. "Happy man,"
said he, "though the world and life were the worst possible, one
thing in them will remain eternally good, -- youth!"
After a while he inquired: "And hast thou not spoken to her?"
"When I had recovered somewhat, I told her that I was returning
from Asia, that I had disjointed my arm near the city, and had
suffered severely, but at the moment of leaving that hospitable
house I saw that suffering in it was more to be wished for than
delight in another place, that sickness there was better than health
somewhere else. Confused too on her part, she listened to my
words with bent head while drawing something with the reed on
the saffron-colored sand. Afterward she raised her eyes, then
looked down at the marks drawn already; once more she looked at
me, as if to ask about something, and then fled on a sudden like a
hamadryad before a dull faun."
"She must have beautiful eyes."
"As the sea -- and I was drowned in them, as in the sea. Believe me
that the archipelago is less blue. After a while a little son of
Plautius ran up with a question. But I did not understand what he
wanted."
"O Athene!" exclaimed Petronius, "remove from the eyes of this
youth the bandage with which Eros has bound them; if not, he will
break his head against the columns of Venus's temple.
"O thou spring bud on the tree of life," said he, turning to Vinicius,
"thou first green shoot of the vine! Instead of taking thee to the
Plautiuses, I ought to give command to bear thee to the house of
Gelocius, where there is a school for youths unacquainted with
life."
"What dost thou wish in particular?"
"But what did she write on the sand? Was it not the name of Amor,
or a heart pierced with his dart, or something of such sort, that one
might know from it that the satyrs had whispered to the ear of that
nymph various secrets of life? How couldst thou help looking on
those marks?"
"It is longer since I have put on the toga than seems to thee," said
Vinicius, "and before little Aulus ran up, I looked carefully at
those marks, for I know that frequently maidens in Greece and in
Rome draw on the sand a confession which their lips will not utter.
But guess what she drew!"
"If it is other than I supposed, I shall not guess."
"A fish."
"What dost thou say?"
"I say, a fish. What did that mean, -- that cold blood is flowing in
her veins? So far I do not know; but thou, who hast called me a
spring bud on the tree of life, wilt be able to understand the sign
certainly."
"Carissime! ask such a thing of Pliny. He knows fish. If old
Apicius were alive, he could tell thee something, for in the course
of his life he ate more fish than could find place at one time in the
bay of Naples."
Further conversation was interrupted, since they were borne into
crowded streets where the noise of people hindered them.
From the Vicus Apollinis they turned to the Boarium, and then
entered the Forum Rornanurn, where on clear days, before sunset,
crowds of idle people assembled to stroll among the columns, to
tell and hear news, to see noted people borne past in litters, and
finally to look in at the jewellery-shops, the book-shops, the arches
where coin was changed, shops for silk, bronze, and all other
articles with which the buildings covering that part of the market
placed opposite the Capitol were filled.
One-half of the Forum, immediately under the rock of the Capitol,
was buried already in shade; but the columns of the temples,
placed higher, seemed golden in the sunshine and the blue. Those
lying lower cast lengthened shadows on marble slabs. The place
was so filled with columns everywhere that the eye was lost in
them as in a forest.
Those buildings and columns seemed huddled together. They
towered some above others, they stretched toward the right and the
left, they climbed toward the height, and they clung to the wall of
the Capitol, or some of them clung to others, like greater and
smaller, thicker and thinner, white or gold colored tree-trunks, now
blooming under architraves, flowers of the acanthus, now
surrounded with Ionic corners, now finished with a simple Done
quadrangle. Above that forest gleamed colored triglyphs; from
tympans stood forth the sculptured forms of gods; from the
Summits winged golden quadrig~ seemed ready to fly away
through space into the blue dome, fixed serenely above that
crowded place of temples. Through the middle of the market and
along the edges of it flowed a river of people; crowds passed under
the arches of the basilica of Julius C~zsar; crowds were sitting on
the steps of Castor and Pollux, or walking around the temple of
Vesta, resembling on that great marble background many-colored
swarms of butterflies or beetles. Down immense steps, from the
side of the temple on the Capitol dedicated to Jupiter Optimus
Maximus, came new waves; at the rostra people listened to chance
orators; in one place and another rose the shouts of hawkers selling
fruit, wine, or water mixed with fig_juice; of tricksters; of venders
of marvellous medicines; of soothsayers; of discoverers of hidden
treasures; of interpreters of dreams. Here and there, in the tumult
of conversations and cries, were mingled sounds of the Egyptian
sistra, of tile sambuké, or of Grecian flutes. Here and there the
sick, the pious, or the afflicted were bearing offerings to the
temples. In the midst of the people, on the stone flags, gathered
flocks of doves, eager for the grain given them, and like movable
many-colored and dark spots, now rising for a moment with a loud
sound of wings, now dropping down again to places left vacant by
people. From time to time the crowds opened before litters in
which were visible the affected faces of women, or the heads of
senators and knights, with features, as it were, rigid and exhausted
from living. The many-tongued population repeated aloud their
names, with the addition of some term of praise or ridicule.
Among the unordered groups pushed from time to time, advancing
with measured tread, parties of soldiers, or watchers, preserving
order on the streets. Around about, the Greek language was heard
as often as Latin.
Vinicius, who had not been in the city for a long time, looked with
a certain curiosity on that swarm of people and on that Forum
Romanum, which both dominated the sea of the world and was
flooded by it, so that Petronius, who divined the thoughts of his
companion, called it "the nest of the Quirites -- without the
Quiites." In truth, the local element was well-nigh lost in that
crowd, composed of all races and nations. There appeared
Ethiopians, gigantic light-haired people from the distant north,
Britons, Gauls, Germans, sloping-eyed dwellers of Lericum;
people from the Euphrates and from the Indus, with beards dyed
brick color; Syrians from the banks of the Orontes, with black and
mild eyes; dwellers in the deserts of Arabia, dried up as a bone;
Jews, with their flat breasts; Egyptians, with the eternal,
indifferent smile on their faces; Numidians and Africans; Greeks
from Hellas, who equally with the Romans commanjied the city,
but commanded through science, art, wisdom, and deceit; Greeks
from the islands, from Asia Minor, from Egypt, from Italy, from
Narbonic Gaul. In the throng of slaves, with pierced ears, were not
lacking also freemen, -- an idle population, which Caesar amused,
supported, even clothed, -- and free visitors, whom the ease of life
and the prospects of fortune enticed to the gigantic city; there was
no lack of venal persons. There were priests of Serapis, with palm
branches in their hands; priests of Isis, to whose altar more
offerings were brought than to the temple of the Capitoline Jove;
priests of Cybele, bearing in their hands golden ears of rice; and
priests of nomad divinities; and dancers of the East with bright
head-dresses, and dealers in amulets, and snake-tamers, and
Chaldean seers; and, finally, people without any occupation
whatever, who applied for grain every week at the storehouses on
the Tiber, who fought for lottery-tickets to the Circus, who spent
their nights in rickety houses of districts beyond the Tiber, and
sunny and warm days under covered porticos, and in foul
eating-houses of the Subura, on the Milvian bridge, or before the
"insuhr" of the great, where from time to time remnants from the
tables of slaves were thrown out to them.
Petronius was well known to those crowds. Vinicius's ears were
struck continually by "Hic est!" (Here he is). They loved him for
his munificence; and his peculiar popularity increased from the
time when they learned that he had spoken before Caesar in
opposition to the sentence of death issued against the whole
"familia," that is, against all the slaves of the prefect Pedanius
Secundus, without distinction of sex or age, because one of them
had killed that monster in a moment of despair. Petronius repeated
in public, it is true, that it was all one to him, and that he had
spoken to Caesar only privately, as the arbiter elegantiarum whose
aesthetic taste was offended by a barbarous slaughter befitting
Scythians and not Romans. Nevertheless, people who were
indignant because of the slaughter loved Petronius from that
moment forth. But he did not care for their love. He remembered
that that crowd of people had loved also Britannicus, poisoned by
Nero; and Agrippina, killed at his command; and Octavia,
smothered in hot steam at the Pandataria, after her veins had been
opened previously; and Rubelius Plautus, who had been banished;
and Thrasea, to whom any morning might bring a death sentence.
The love of the mob might be considered rather of ill omen; and
the sceptical Pctronius was superstitious also. He had a twofold
contempt for the multitude, -- as an aristocrat and an aesthetic
person. Men with the odor of roast beans, which they carried in
their bosoms, and who besides were eternally hoarse and sweating
from playing mora on the street-corners and peristyles, did not in
his eyes deserve the term "human." Hence he gave no answer
whatever to the applause, or the kisses sent from lips here and
there to him. He was relating to Marcus the case of Pedanius,
reviling meanwhile the fickleness of that rabble which, next
morning after the terrible butchery, applauded Nero on his way to
the temple of Jupiter Stator. But he gave conimand to halt before
the book-shop of Avirnus, and, descending from tile litter,
purchased an ornamented manuscript, which he gave to Vinicius.
"Here is a gift for thee," said he.
"Thanks!" answered Vinicius. Then, looking at the title, he
inquired, "'Satyricon'? Is this something new? Whose is it?"
"Mine. But I do not wish to go in the road of Rufinus, whose
history I was to tell thee, nor of Fabricius Veiento; hence no one
knows of this, and do thou mention it to no man."
"Thou hast said that thou art no writer of verses," said Vinicius,
looking at the middle of tile manuscript; "but here I see prose
thickly interwoven with them."
"When thou art reading, turn attention to Trimalchion's feast. As to
verses, they have disgusted me, since Nero is writing an epic.
Vitelius, when he wishes to relieve himself, uses ivory fingers to
thrust down his throat; others serve themselves with flamingo
feathers steeped in olive oil or in a decoction of wild thyme. I read
Nero's poetry, and the result is immediate. Straight-way I am able
to praise it, if not with a clear conscience, at least with a clear
stomach."
When he had said this, he stopped the litter again before the shop
of Idomeneus the goldsmith, and, having settled the affair of the
gems, gave command to bear the litter directly to Aulus's mansion.
"On the road I will tell thee the story of Rufinus," said he, "as
proof of what vanity in an author may be."
But before he had begun, they turned in to the Vicus Patricius, and
soon found themselves before the dwelling of Aulus. A young and
sturdy "janitor" opened the door leading to the ostium, over which
a magpie confined in a cage greeted them noisily with the word,
"Salve!"
On the way from the second antechamber, called the ostium, to the
atrium itself, Vinicius said, -- "Flast noticed diat tile doorkeepers
are without chains!" "This is a wonderful house," answered
Petronius, in an undertone. "Of course it is known to thee that
Pomponia Griecina is suspected of entertaining that Eastern
superstition which consists in honoring a certain Chrestos. It seems
that Crispinilla rendered her this service, -- she who cannot forgive
Pomponia because one husband has sufficed her for a lifetime. A
one-man Woman! To-day, in Rome, it is easier to get a half-plate
of fresh mushrooms from Noricum than to find such. They tried
her before a domestic court --"
"To thy judgment this is a wonderful house. Later on I will tell
thee what I heard and saw in it."
Meanwhile they had entered the atrium. The slave appointed to it,
called atricnsis, sent a nomenclator to announce the guests; and
Petronius, who, imagining that eternal sadness reigned in this
severe house, had never been in it, looked around with
astonishment, and as it were with a feeling of disappointment, for
the atrium produced rather an impression of cheerfulness. A sheaf
of bright light falling from above through a large opening broke
into a thousand sparks on a fountain in a quadrangular little basin,
called the impluvium, which was in the middle to receive rain
falling through the opening during bad weather; this was
surrounded by anemones and lilies. In that house a special love for
lilies was evident, for there were whole clumps of them, both
white and red; and, finally, sapphire irises, whose delicate leaves
were as if silvered from the spray of the fountain. Among the
moist mosses, in which lily-pots were hidden, and among the
bunches of lilies were little bronze statues representing children
and water-birds. In one corner a bronze fawn, as if wishing to
drink, was inclining its greenish head, grizzled, too, by dampness.
The floor of the atrium was of mosaic; the walls, faced partly with
red marble and partly with wood, on which were painted fish,
birds, and griffins, attracted the eye by the play of colors. From the
door to the side chamber they were ornamented with tortoise-shell
or even ivory; at the walls between the doors were statues of
Aulus's ancestors. Everywhere calm plenty was evident, remote
from excess, but noble and self-trusting.
Petronius, who lived with incomparably greater show and
elegance, could find nothing which offended his taste; and had just
turned to Vinicius with that remark, when a slave, the velarius,
pushed aside the curtain separating the atrium from the tablinum,
and in the depth of the building appeared Aulus Plautius
approaching hurriedly.
He was a man nearing the evening of life, with a head whitened by
hoar frost, but fresh, with an energetic face, a trifle too short, but
still somewhat eagle-like. This time there was expressed on it a
certain astonishment, and even alarm, because of the unexpected
arrival of Nero's friend, companion, and suggester.
Petronius was too much a man of the world and too quick not to
notice this; hence, after the first greetings, he announced with all
the eloquence and ease at his command that he had come to give
thanks for the care which his sister's son had found in that house,
and that gratitude alone was the cause of the visit, to which,
moreover, he was emboldened by his old acquaintance with Aulus.
Aulus assured him that he was a welcome guest; and as to
gratitude, he declared that he had that feeling himself, though
surely Petronius did not divine the cause of it.
In fact, Petronius did not divine it. In vain did he raise his hazel
eyes, endeavoring to remember the least service rendered to Aulus
or to any one. He recalled none, unless it might be that which he
intended to show Vinicius. Some such thing, it is true, might have
happened involuntarily, but only involuntarily.
"I have great love and esteem for Vespasian, whose life thou didst
save," said Aulus, "when he had the misfortune to doze while
listening to Nero's verses."
"He was fortunate," replied Petronius, "for he did not hear them;
but I will not deny that the matter might have ended with
misfortune. Bronzebeard wished absolutely to send a centurion to
him with the friendly advice to open his veins."
"But thou, Petronius, laughed him out of it."
"That is true, or rather it is not true. I told Nero that if Orpheus put
wild beasts to sleep with song, his triumph was equal, since he had
put Vespasian to sleep. Ahenobarbus may be blamed on condition
that to a small criticism a great flattery be added. Our gracious
Augusta, Poppae, understands this to perfection."
"Alas! such are the times," answered Aulus. "I lack two front teeth,
knocked out by a stone from the hand of a Briton, I speak with a
hiss; still my happiest days were passed in Britain."
"Because they were days of victory," added Vinicius.
But Petronius, alarmed lest the old general might begin a narrative
of his former wars, changed the conversation.
"See," said he, "in the neighborhood of Prirneste country people
found a dead wolf whelp with two heads; and during a storm about
that time lightning struck off an angle of the temple of Luna, -- a
thing unparalleled, because of the late autumn. A certain Cotta,
too, who had told this, added, while telling it, that the priests of
that temple prophesied the fall of the city or, at least, the ruin of a
great house, -- ruin to be averted only by uncommon sacrifices."
Aulus, when he had heard the narrative, expressed the opinion that
such signs should not be neglected; that the gods might be angered
by an over-measure of wickedness. In this there was nothing
wonderful; arid in such an event expiatory sacrifices were
perfectly in order.
"Thy house, Plautius, is not too large," answered Petronius,
"though a great man lives in it. Mine is indeed too large for such a
wretched owner, though equally small. But if it is a question of the
ruin of something as great, for example, as the doinus transitoria,
would it be worth while for us to bring offerings to avert that
ruin?"
Plautius did not answer that question, -- a carefulness which
touched even Petronius somewhat, for, with all his inability to feel
the difference between good and evil, he had never been an
informer; and it was possible to talk with him in perfect safety. He
changed the conversation again, therefore, and began to praise
Plautius's dwelling and the good taste which reigned in the house.
"It is an ancient seat," said Plautius, "in which nothing has been
changed since I inherited it."
After the curtain was pushed aside which divided the atrium from
the tablinum, the house was open from end to end, so that through
the tabhinum and the following peristyle and the hail lying beyond
it which was called the aecus, the glance extended to the garden,
which seemed from a distance like a bright image set in a dark
frame. Joyous, childlike laughter came from it tmm the atrium.
"Oh, general!" said Petronius, "permit us to listen from near by to
that glad laughter which is of a kind heard so rarely in these days."
"Willingly," answered Plautius, rising; "that is my little Aulus and
Lygia, playing ball. But as to laughter, I think, Petronius, that our
whole life is spent in it."
"Life deserves laughter, hence people laugh at it," answered
Petronius, "but laughter here has another sound."
"Petronius does not laugh for days in succession," said Vinicius;
"but then he laughs entire nights."
Thus conversing, they passed through the length of the house and
reached the garden, where Lygia and little Aulus were playing with
balls, which slaves, appointed to that game exclusively and called
spherist~, picked up and placed in their hands. Petronius cast a
quick passing glance at Lygia; little Aulus, seeing Vinicius, ran to
greet him; but the young tribune, going forward, bent his head
before the beautiful maiden, who stood with a bali in her hand, her
hair blown apart a little. She was somewhat out of breath, and
flushed.
In the garden trichinium, shaded by ivy, grapes, and woodbine, sat
Pornponia Graecina; hence they went to salute her. She was
known to Petronius, though he did not visit Plautius, for he had
seen her at the house of Antistia, the daughter of Rubehius Plautus,
and besides at the house of Seneca and Polion. He could not resist
a certain admiration with which he was filled by her face, pensive
but mild, by the dignity of her bearing, by her movements, by her
words. Pomponia disturbed his understanding of women to such a
degree that that man, corrupted to the marrow of his bones, and
self-confident as no one in Rome, not only felt for her a kind of
esteem, but even lost his previous self-confidence. And now,
thanking her for her care of Vinicius, he thrust in, as it were
involuntarily, "domina," which never occurred to him when
speaking, for example, to Calvia Crispinilla, Scribonia, Veleria,
Solina, and other women of high society. After he had greeted her
and returned thanks, he began to complain that he saw her so
rarely, that it was not possible to meet her either in the Circus or
the Amphitheatre; to which she answered calmly, laying her hand
on the hand of her husband:
"We are growing old, and love our domestic quiet more and more,
both of us."
Petronius wished to oppose; but Aulus Plautius added in his
hissing voice, -- "And we feel stranger and stranger among people
who give Greek names to our Roman divinities."
"The gods have become for some time mere figures of rhetoric,"
replied Petronius, carelessly. "But since Greek rhetoricians taught
us, it is easier for me even to say Hera than Juno."
He turned his eyes then to Pomponia, as if to signify that in
presence of her no other divinity could come to his mind: and then
he began to contradict what she had said touching old age.
"People grow old quickly, it is true; but there are some who live
another life entirely, and there are faces moreover which Saturn
seems to forget."
Pctronius said this with a certain sincerity even, for Pomponia
Graecina, though descending from the midday of life, had
preserved an uncommon freshness of face; and since she had a
small head and delicate features, she produced at times, despite
her dark robes, despite her solemnity and sadness, the impression
of a woman quite young.
Meanwhile little Aulus, who had become uncommonly friendly
with Vinicius during his former stay in the house, approached the
young man and entreated him to play ball. Lygia herself entered
the triclinium after the little boy. Under the climbing ivy, with the
light quivering on her face, she seemed to Petronius more beautiful
than at the first glance, and really like some nymph. As he had not
spoken to her thus far, he rose, inclined his head, and, instead of
the usual expressions of greeting, quoted the words with which
Ulysses greeted Nausikaa, -- "I supplicate thee, O queen, whether
thou art some goddess or a mortal! If thou art one of the daughters
of men who dwell on earth, thrice blessed are thy father and thy
lady mother, and thrice blessed thy brethren."
The exquisite politeness of this man of the world pleased even
Pomponia. As to Lygia, she listened, confused and flushed,
without boldness to raise her eyes. But a wayward smile began to
quiver at the corners of her lips, and on her face a struggle was
evident between the timidity of a maiden and the wish to answer;
but clearly the wish was victorious, for, looking quickly at
Petronius, she answered him all at once with the words of that
same Nausikaa, quoting them at one breath, and a little like a
lesson learned, --
"Stranger, thou seemest no evil man nor foolish."
Then she turned and ran out as a frightened bird runs.
This time the turn for astonishment came to Petronius, for he had
not expected to hear verses of I lomer from the lips of a maiden of
whose barbarian extraction he had heard previously from Vinicius.
Hence he looked with an inquiring glance at Pomponia; but she
could not give him an answer, for she was looking at that moment,
with a smile, at the pride reflected on the face of her husband.
He was not able to conceal that pride. First, he had become
attached to Lygia as to his own daughter; and second, in spite of
his old Roman prejudices, which commanded him to thunder
against Greek and the spread of the language, he considered it as
the summit of social polish. He himself had never been able to
learn it well; over this he suffered in secret. He was glad,
therefore, that an answer was given in the language and poetry of
Homer to this exquisite man both of fashion and letters, who was
ready to consider Plautius's house as barbarian.
"We have in the house a pedagogue, a Greek," said he, turning to
Petronius, "who teaches our boy, and the maiden overhears the
lessons. She is a wagrail yet, but a dear one, to which we have both
grown attached."
Petronius looked through the branches of woodbine into the
garden, and at the three persons who were playing there. Vinicius
had thrown aside his toga, and, wearing only his tunic, was striking
the ball, which Lygia, standing opposite, with raised arms was
trying to catch. The maiden did not make a great impression on
Petronius at the first glance; she secirmed to hhrm too slender. But
from the moment when he saw her more nearly in the triclinium he
thought to himself that Aurora might look like her; and as a judge
he understood that in her there was something uncommon. He
considered everything and estimated everything; hence her face,
rosy and clear, her fresh lips, as if set for a kiss, her eyes blue as
the azure of the sea, the alabaster whiteness of her forehead, the
wealth of her dark hair, with the reflection of amber or Corinthian
bronze gleaming in its folds, her slender neck, the divine slope of
her shoulders, the whole posture, flexible, slender, young with the
youth of May and of freshly opened flowers. The artist was roused
in him, and the worshipper of beauty, who felt that beneath a
statue of that maiden one might write "Spring." All at once he
remembered Chrysothemis, and pure laughter seized him.
Chrysothemis seemed to him, with golden powder on her hair and
darkened brows, to be fabulously faded, -- something in the nature
of a yellowed rose-tree shedding its leaves. But still Rome envied
him that Chrysothemis. Then he recalled Poppza; and that most
famous Poppae also seemed to him soulless, a waxen mask. In that
maiden with Tanagrian outlines there was not only spring, but a
radiant soul, which shone through her rosy body as a flame through
a lamp.
"Vinicius is right," thought he, "and my Chrysothemis is old, old!
-- as Troy!"
Then he turned to Pomponia Graecina, and, pointing to the garden,
said, -- "I understand now, domina, why thou and thy husband
prefer this house to the Circus and to feasts on the Palatine."
"Yes," answered she, turning her eyes in the direction of little
Aulus and Lygia.
But the old general began to relate the history of the maiden, and
what he had heard years before from Atelius Hister about the
Lygian people who lived in the gloom of the North.
The three outside had finished playing ball, and for some time had
been walking along the sand of the garden, appearing against the
dark background of myrtles and cypresses like three white statues.
Lygia held little Aulus by the hand. After they had walked a while
they sat on a bench near the fishpond, which occupied the middle
of the garden. After a time Aulus sprang up to frighten the fish in
the transparent water, but Vinicius continued the conversation
begun during the walk.
"Yes," said he, in a low, quivering voice, scarcely audible; "barely
had I cast aside the pretexta, when I was sent to the legions in
Asia. I had not become acquainted with the city, nor with life, nor
with love. I know a small bit of Anacreon by heart, and Horace;
but I cannot like Petronius quote verses, when reason is dumb
from admiration and unable to find its own words. While a youth I
went to school to Musonius, who told me that happiness consists
in wishing what the gods wish, and therefore depends on our will. I
think, however, that it is something else, -- something greater and
more precious, which depends not on the will, for love only can
give it. The gods themselves seek that happiness; hence I too, O
Lygia, who have not known love thus far, follow in their footsteps.
I also seek her who would give me happiness --"
He was silent -- and for a time there was nothing to be heard save
the light plash of the water into which little Aulus was throwing
pebbles to frighten the fish; but after a while Vinicius began again
in a voice still softer amid lower, -- "But thou knowest of
Vespasian's son Titus? They say that he had scarcely ceased to be a
youth when he so loved Berenice that grief almost drew the life
out of him. So could I too love, O Lygia! Riches, glory, power are
mere smoke, vanity! The rich man will find a richer than himself;
the greater glory of another will eclipse a man who is famous; a
strong man will be conquered by a stronger. But can Caesar
himself, can any god even, experience greater delight or be happier
than a simple mortal at the moment when at his breast there is
breathing another dear breast, or when he kisses beloved lips?
Hence love makes us equal to the gods, O Lygia."
And she listened with alarm, with astonishment, and at the same
time as if she were listening to the sound of a Grecian flute or a
cithara. It seemed to her at moments that Vinicius was singing a
kind of wonderful song, which was instilling itself into her ears,
moving the blood in her, and penetrating her heart with a faintness,
a fear, and a kind of uncomprehended delight. It seemed to her
also that he was telling something which was in her before, but of
which she could not give account to herself. She felt that he was
rousing in her something which had been sleeping hitherto, and
that in that moment a hazy dream was changing into a form more
and more definite, more pleasing, more beautiful.
Meanwhile the sun had passed the Tiber long since, and had sunk
low over the Janiculum. On the motionless cypresses ruddy light
was falling, and the whole atmosphere was filled with it. Lygia
raised on Vinicius her blue eyes as if roused from sleep; and he,
bending over her with a prayer quivering in his eyes, seemed on a
sudden, in the reflections of evening, more beautiful than all men,
than all Greek and Roman gods whose statues she had seen on the
fa‡ades of temples. And with his fingers he clasped her arm lightly
just above the wrist and asked, -- "Dost thou not divine what I say
to thee, Lygia?"
"No," whispered she as answer, in a voice so low that Virsicius
barely heard it.
But he did not believe her, and, drawing her hand toward him
more vigorously, he would have drawn it to his heart, which, under
the influence of desire roused by the marvellous maiden, was
beating like a hammer, and would have addressed burning words
to her directly had not old Aulus appeared on a path set in a frame
of myrtles, who said, while approaching them, -- "The sun is
setting; so beware of the evening coolness, and do not trifle
with Libitina."
"No," answered Vinicius; "I have not put on my toga yet, and I do
not feel the cold."
"But see, barely half the sun's shield is looking from behind the
hill. That is a sweet climate of Sicily, where people gather on the
square before sunset and take farewell of disappearing Phothus
with a choral song."
And, forgetting that a moment earlier he had warned them against
Libitina, he began to tell about Sicily, where he had estates and
large cultivated fields which he loved. He stated also that it had
come to his mind more than once to remove to Sicily, and live out
his life there in quietness. "He whose head winters have whitened
has bad enough of hoar frost. Leaves are not falling from the trees
yet, and the sky smiles on the city lovingly; but when the
grapevines grow yellow-leaved, when snow falls on the Alban
hills, and the gods visit the Campania with piercing wind, who
knows but I may remove with my entire household to my quiet
country-seat?"
"Wouldst thou leave Rome?" inquired Vinicius, with sudden
alarm. "I have wished to do so this long time, for it is quieter in
Sicily and safer." And again he fell to praising his gardens, his
herds, his house hidden in green, and the hills grown over with
thyme and savory, among which were swarms of buzzing bees. But
Vinicius paid no heed to that bucolic note; and from thinking only
of this, that he might lose Lygia, he looked toward Petronius as if
expecting salvation from him alone.
Meanwhile Petronius, sitting near Pomponia, was admiring the
view of the setting sun, the garden, and the people standing near
the fish-pond. Their white garments on the dark background of the
myrtles gleamed like gold from the evening rays. On the sky the
evening light had begun to assume purple and violet hues, and to
change like an opal. A strip of the sky became lily-colored. The
dark silhouettes of the cypresses grew still more pronounced than
during bright daylight. In the people, in the trees, in the whole
garden there reigned an evening calm.
That calm struck Petronius, and it struck him especially in the
people. In the faces of Pomponia, old Aulus, their son, and Lygia
there was something such as he did not see in the faces which
surrounded him every day, or rather every night. There was a
certain light, a certain repose, a certain serenity, flowing directly
from the life which all lived there. And with a species of
astonishment he thought that a beauty and sweetness might exist
which he, who chased after beauty and sweetness continually, had
not known. He could not hide the thought in himself, and said,
turning to Pomponia, -- "I am considering in my soul how different
this world of yours is from the world which our Nero rules."
She raised her delicate face toward the evening light, and said with
simplicity, -- "Not Nero, but God, rules the world."
A moment of silence followed. Near the triclinium were heard in
the alley, the steps of the old general, Vinicius, Lygia, and little
Aulus; but before they arrived, Petronius had put another question,
-- "But believest thou in the gods, then, Pomponia?"
"I believe in God, who is one, just, and all-powerful," answered the
wife of Aulus Plautius. _
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